I did not get pranked. I made a short film with another student in my Time Based Art class at the University of New South Wales. It was my first time handling a camcorder. Two alternating POVs. I went to wake up a drunk friend, he chased me down a street, we fought. It needs editing and a soundtrack; possibly short punk, such as The Ramones or the Buzzcocks or Flogging Molly. Quite fun, and I did not get bruised.

Today, I finally got a penis! In health class we had to learn about contraceptives and the female and male genitalia. Since we had to take notes on our iBooks from a tv. that was hooked up to ouir teacher's iBook, we couldn't see the genitalia very well. So, our teacher printed us out some penises and vaginas and now I have both!

So the post-once-per-day thing isn't working out too well. I just get too busy to spend enough time on it to make it worth the effort.

Still, here I am, and I finally have some time.

Is this supposed to hurt this bad for this long?
Because she deserves nothing less, I am putting on a strong front, trying my best to hold my composure around her, interact with her professionally, and perform my job tasks as best I can.

I suspect she sees straight through it anyway, but as much for my benefit as hers, she plays along and lets me pretend I'm doing okay with all of this.

I just want to know how long this stuff is supposed to hurt? How long is that "dull ache" meant to last?

I finally figured out today what that dull ache actually is, and how it manifests itself. I don't even understand how I realized all this, or why today was the day I picked up on it, but there it is... there's lots of things I long to do with/to/for her that I can no longer do.

The confusing part is while certain things are obviously off-limits (sex, probably kissing, etc.), lots of other stuff isn't. I'm sure I attach more emotional significance these days to holding her hand or hugging her than she does, but still, she knows the effect those things have on me. She still shares them with me anyway (and I'm grateful to her for it).

There are times when it takes absolutely all of my mental strength and will power not to just grab her, wrap my arms around her, and kiss her hard enough to pull the enamel off her teeth. There are times when she so obviously needs a long, close hug ... someone to just hold her for an eternity, and I can't just walk up anymore and do that for her. There are times when she lays on her bed, walks past me wearing little to nothing, or flat out flirts with me that make every part of my body and soul ache for her. There's even times I just want to toss her down on that bed and make love with her until we're both too stiff and sore to move.

I'm still learning what the new boundaries are. Obviously, hugging and holding hands are still options, because we still do that very often and she initiates most of it. I want to tell her that I'm just afraid to reach for her hand or draw her close to me for a hug, not because I fear she doesn't want it from me but because I fear I may cross a boundary she's drawn in her mind to help her avoid getting too close to me again. I would spend every waking moment holding her hand, holding her in my arms, stroking her hair, massaging her, calming and soothing her, and making her feel loved, if only I could. The only reason I can't right now is that I respect her wishes; I can't stop her from following her heart.

I just wish I couldn't see how much it hurts her. He's still cold and distant, I think; understandably she doesn't tell me much about their relationship, but I can still tell it's not going how she hoped it would. It kills me to know I can give her everything she wants if only she would just tell me she wants it from me, and to see her trying for the same thing from somebody else who either isn't ready, doesn't really want that, or is playing "hard to get".

Why did I have to fall so hard in love for her? Why am I still so perfectly tuned to her feelings and soul? Wasn't her choosing him over me enough pain to suffer through? Why do I get to experience the added "fun" of knowing exactly what she's going through and feeling? Why do I have to feel her hurting too?

Most importantly, why can't it just be the way it should be? If we were together, the sadness would heal and eventually go away. As it stands now, we're both just living our lives together but apart, growing closer as friends and coworkers but ripping each other's hearts to shreds -- hers while she tries to figure out what she really wants, and mine as I wait for her to decide.

...

I wish it didn't hurt so bad on the inside every time she tells me "I love you," because I know that's not the emotion she wants me to feel. I always (absolutely always) tell her I love her too, whenever she says it to me. I make sure to tell her even when she doesn't say it first. I'm prevented from telling her just how much I really love her by the knowledge that every time I do, it hurts her to hear. She doesn't want me to hurt like this -- I can see that in her eyes every time she beams that warm, gentle smile at me after she says "I love you." But I do hurt like this. It's not getting any better. I don't think it ever will.

I can never give up. My heart refuses to do it anyway, and I have already learned to stop trying. Meanwhile, they'll go on dates, talk about things, try to rebuild a relationship they might both want. Someday, I will see her happy, truly smiling because she is content and has what she wants. No matter who that ends up involving (if anyone), I know she will share that moment with me because she knows it will be a very special moment for me. Since the day I met her, I've wanted nothing else but her happiness.

That's why I'm still here, and it's why I can't quite let go of everything. She's not happy yet, and if I can contribute anything to her life, whether it's taking work off her shoulders, helping her relieve stress, holding her when she needs to cry, listening to her when she needs to talk, loving her when she needs love, making her laugh, or standing tall alongside her through the toughest moments of her life, then dammit, I will do it.

I don't care what the outcome is for me. I don't care if she's just using me for whatever she can before I "burn out". I know she isn't, but it's a possibility that I've considered (and rejected). I seriously don't care what happens to me -- as long as I am able to provide for her, care for her, and love her, I will. As long as I am capable of feeling, I will feel this strongly for her. No matter what she does to me, or what she does with him, I will love her. I will still long to touch her, comfort her when she's sad, and to be the most significant person in her life. I will never burn out. Never.

This may be a burden I carry on my shoulders for the rest of my life, but it's nice to finally realize I have a purpose. Funny as it sounds, as much as I lament the pain I suffer every moment from this, waking and sleeping, I don't want it to stop (unless it's by her choosing me again). This feeling, bad as it is, makes me ever stronger, ever better, and ultimately more appealing to the woman I care so deeply about. They say struggle and pain both build character. If that's really true, my character is pumping fucking iron.

"I love you," she frequently says to me. Well, Erica, I love you, too, with all my heart. I am immensely proud to tell the whole world that.

...and no, this is not an April Fool's Joke...

Dear friends,

I apologize for my absence in the last few weeks. I know that being without constant updates regarding my thoughts on politics and zombies must have left you with a profound sense of loss lo these many days, but I must humbly beg your forgiveness; for you see, I have fallen in love.

As I am sure many of you know, the voyage of my romantic life has been rocky at best. Often I despaired that I would find no true soulmate on this earth, no sibling soul to inflame my lust for life, to bless my comings and my goings, to greet me each day with a smile. But now that I have found my sweet Margaret, my heart rejoices.

Though we've only been together a short time, I cannot imagine my life without her - and she's said that she will marry me. I'm sure this comes as quite a shock to all of you, but please, read this whole notice of mine before passing judgment upon me.

Our match is, to be sure, an odd one, but I am determined to make my case to all of you in the hopes that you'll approve of our union. She's English, and a bit older than me. She went to college at Oxford (!) studying chemistry, but eventually got a law degree and decided to go into politics. Though she's been out of Parliament lately, she served on the Conservative side of the government. I know, I know, liberal ol' Martian_Bob falling for a Conservative woman, it's enough to make your head swim... She is also divorced. She has two children from her previous marriage, twins named Mark and Carrol. They are absolutely delightful, their smiles would brighten even the most melancholy of days.

Our romance has been idyllic, though not without moments of strife. It seems that the paparazzi have followed my future bride from Britain. Because of her past political positions, they're determined to cast our pure union as some kind of scandal. "Boy toy" they've named me, mocking our nights out as "shameful" and our nights in as "trysts". Still, we are unfazed; the Soviets did not name my lovely Margaret "the Iron Lady" idly. She has stood firm against their advances in public, ordering them off embassy property, though in private I hold her as she shakes, sobbing with rage.

My friends, I beg your approval. I hope my descriptions of this profoundly passionate woman have convinced you that our love will stand through a thousand generations as the greatest love story of our time. If you'd like to more about her, she has a website devoted to her; you can access it at www.margaretthatcher.org. In the meantime, we are making preparations to cement our loving bond this August, in my home town of Chanhassen. We shall be married in the Church of Eckankar, and Margaret has told me that Prince himself has agreed to sing at the ceremony. Our processional shall be the song that first brought us together, "Talk Dirty To Me" by 80s glam metal group Poison. The wedding colors will be puce and teal, Margaret's bridesmaids will be my sisters and prominent ex-girlfriends, and Tony Blair has agreed to give the bride away, as her parents have passed on. ClockworkGrue, my long time friend and confidant will be my best man, and Richard M. Stallman along with all three Iron Chefs Japanese (including Masaharu Morimoto) will be my groomsmen.

Invitations will be in the mail soon; until then, I wish you all a wonderful day and a happy April 1st.

Smoke a bowl and draw your shoe and all good things will follow. oh my god dude, seriously. Now, for what it's worth, drawing is always good for the stoner. Let your imagination roam. Treat everything within your field of vision as though it were a cloud in the sky and you were laying on your back in a grassy field somewhere. This works especially well with the silhouettes of trees against a fairly light-colored sky in the middle of the night about any time of year in these northern new jersey suburbs. What do you see?

Now, for fucks sake, draw it! Draw anything, even just squiggles and spirals and whatnot, just draw! And now this drawing is a new object to look over....look from close up and far away! Look for faces...figures...anything....it might take a little more effort to do this without being stoned, but whether or not you choose to partake of this particular vice, free your mind and open your eyes....what do you see?

Kyoto, Japan
from the foreign female perspective
Day : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

It was a marvelous day, mostly because we were able to put Utano behind us. I met the boys in the common area around nine, took the suitcase from Aaron so I could cram all of my things back into it, we threw our sheets in the laundry, and then got the hell out. Unfortunately we were not quick enough to avoid the ancient couple who seem to appear everywhere no matter the time of day. The old man clutches the old woman’s arm, trying to dissuade her from acting senile (which she very obviously is), and usually forces her to sit on the tatami floor of the traditional Japanese room adjacent to the lounge. She sits, working her bottom jaw, staring into space, clinging onto her plastic bag.

So much for Utano being a youth hostel. I usually love old people, but those two were just creepy.

I suppose I should also mention the pregnant woman who was staying in my room. We’re talking nine months pregnant, ready to burst at any second, and this woman was staying in a youth hostel. She had the disconcerting habit of rubbing her stomach and staring at people accusingly. It’s the reason I packed so fast, actually, as she had chosen me as her victim that morning and it was weirding me out.

But thank god, we left.

We ran into Cyrano again on the bus, he’s the most normal person we met at the hostel despite his rather distasteful reasons for coming to Japan. It seems he has half a dozen girlfriends all over the world, but he’s French, so what can you do. He’s very good looking, I suppose, if a little on the short side when compared with Aaron and Kyle and I. I’m sure his girlfriends all count their blessings when he deigns to visit their sector of the world.

We got some breakfast at a tiny little shop in the station, it was incredibly cheap and not too bad. Aaron and Kyle were looking the worse for wear after not having showered in half a week due to the disgusting facilities at the hotel, and I’m sure I wasn’t much better. Thankfully Mister Donut still loved us, as always. Good old Mister Donut, our refuge and sanctuary.

Because we’d been frequenting Mister Donut so much during the past week and abusing the free coffee refills like only caffeine fiends can, we had accumulated quite a stack of point cards. For every 200 yen spent, we were given one point, and despite not keeping a few of them out of ignorance, we had accumulated 8. When we sat down with our food this morning, we found a stack of them sitting next to us, just waiting for loving hands to claim them. With this mysterious stack, our previous stash, and what we received from our most current order, we had a total of 22 points. 10 were needed to claim a prize, so I got 3 little lion glasses, and Aaron got a big white cardboard box.

It was exciting.

After chilling for a while we finally packed up and headed to the Shinkansen area to wait for our train. I was stupid and forgot that Kyoto wasn’t the first stop on the line, so the train would not be there until only a few minutes before the time on our tickets as opposed to 20 or 30 minutes as in Tokyo. Kyle was full of loud noises and was generally obnoxious as we waited, but it was a nice change of pace from the subdued attitudes of everyone else in the station. And by then I was quite used to his outbursts. Without them the trip wouldn’t have been the same.

Eventually our train felt like arriving. We were riding the のぞみ新幹線, the fastest train in the country.

It was a smooth ride home. We caught the 中央 from Tokyo, but I had to leave the boys in 新宿 and hop on the 山手 to Shibuya, then take the Inokashira Sen to Komaba so I could sign for my scholarship and pick up my transcript as well as the course guide for next semester.

The boys had managed to make it home without me, paid my rent with the money I provided, and were in the process of cleaning themselves as I had requested.

The rest of the day was spent recovering.


Day : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

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